House of Mages: The First Step of a Thousand Miles
by Diaphanous
Summary: It had been a normal Saturday afternoon. Too bad that cursed Potter luck decided to shake things up. Now Harry was lost in a desert in the middle of freaking nowhere on a world not his own. And let's not forget the hungry fauna and that hint of destiny...


**House of Mages**: **The First Step of a Thousand Miles**

_**AN**_: What's up, y'all? I've now been sucked into the terrifying world of writing HP crossovers. What's wrong with me? *flails about in a panic*

This idea came about while I was grocery shopping, of all things. Why Wal-mart inspired me in the candy aisle, I will never know. Stupid cravings for chocolate covered peanuts…

I. Can't. Stop!

Btw, sunburn on one's scalp is torturous. Trust me, I know. The Caribbean sun is an unforgiving bitch. Hence Harry's genius in an upcoming scene…

Disclaimer: I don't own these, never will.

_WARNINGS_: Not HBP/DH compliant, definitely EWE (Epilogue? What epilogue?), Pre-Game, language, violence, blood, het, anthro-smut, etc. Also, this had no discernable plot other than the fact that Harry's gone and done it again. Thrice-damned Potter luck right there.

The smut is separated by page breaks that look like this: _000/000_

_**00000**_

PART ONE: _Gone_

Harry James Potter, spawn of James and Lily Potter, was distressingly lost.

It had happened on a Saturday. It had been a typical Saturday filled with sleeping in until noon, brunch with only his deranged house-elf for company, and a copy of the London Times. And yes, he did not read the Daily Prophet. He hated those people. Anyway, around two o'clock the assistant to the head of his department in the Ministry Floo'd him in a complete panic. Usually he didn't call on Harry during the weekend. But something was obviously wrong for the man to be in such a tizzy. The twenty-six year-old had choked on his glass of water when he heard his boss' secretary's voice screeching for him from his parlor fireplace.

"POTTER! FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, POTTER! ANSWER YOUR FUCKING FLOO!" Harmony screamed out.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered under his breath as he set down his cup and exited his study. "Yes, John, what is it? Did Yalenick finally blow off his fingers with his experiments?" The brunet wizard knelt down to stare at the other's face sticking out from the flames. He frowned at the man's rolling eyes, which were like that of a wild, frightened horse. "Good lord, what is it?"

"THE DEATH VEIL! IT'S GONE AND SUCKED IN JARVIN!"

"Stop screaming," the younger man said dazedly, the news not quite sinking in. His subordinate sucked in by the Veil? Impossible… Harry shook off his stupor and his eyes sharpened. "How?" he growled. "How was he sucked into the Veil? That's not supposed to happen! It just doesn't suck people in, Harmony!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Harmony wailed.

"I SAID, STOP SCREAMING!" Harry finally bellowed back. "Get out of the way! I'm coming through." He actually stuck his foot into the Floo Flames and kicked his employer's spineless minion back into wherever he was calling from, pulling back his appendage when the flames turned back to their original color. Then he swayed up to his feet.

Using a bit of wandless magic, Harry summoned his dark blue, velvet Unspeakables' Cloak and swirled it around in an arch to settle it upon his broad shoulders. He flipped up the hood over his head, the deep cowl obscuring his features. The spells woven into the material guaranteed that the hood could not be removed by anyone other than the wearer. He checked his wands, one in his wrist holster and two others tucked into his dragonhide, knee-high boots. A small knife, as was old habit, was holstered at the small of his back. On a thick chain tucked into his shirt was a shrunken trunk that had a built in bedroom, a bathroom, and the usual. The usual being twelve other compartments filled with potions, bandages, a potions lab with a multitude of ingredients, and so on. He also had food rations, water bottles, extra clothes, and extra boots. A fourth wand was also hidden within its depths. He could live for years out of this trunk. It was a super trunk. Such readiness for field survival had been beaten into him during the war against Voldemort. So no, it wasn't paranoia if people were really out to get you.

It would be later on that Harry would be thanking the gods for having Moody to teach him to be so paranoid and for convincing him to commission such a trunk.

With a pinch of Floo powder in his hand, the wizard flicked the substance into the fire and called out the password that would lead him directly into the Department of Mysteries. It paid to be the one in charge of the Death Chamber. However, being the Unspeakable in charge of said chamber, he would be the one writing the letter to Maxwell Jarvin's significant other and family.

When Harry tumbled out, Harmony was still sniveling and pulling at his hair. The younger wizard dusted himself off and clucked his tongue. Though Harmony should have been a war vet, considering his age, he had actually run away from the war ten years previous. Thus he didn't have the ability to handle such a dire situation. Perhaps he should whisper in the Head's ear that his assistant needed a transfer to somewhere less stressful, like the coffee and tea fetchers or anywhere else but the Department of Mysteries.

"Oh thank Merlin, you're here," Harmony whimpered.

With a huff, the former Savior rolled his eyes. "Did you call Philips?" he asked, referring to the Head of the Department of Mysteries, Kyros Philips.

"He's not home!"

"And that would explain you falling to pieces," Harry breathed out in a low voice as to not be over heard by the now wailing assistant. "Find him then, whilst I check the Veil."

"He could be anywhere!"

"So start looking, you idiot." The brunet stalked off

000

"Well… that's not good." Harry braced himself against the vortex that the Death Veil had somehow transformed into, spreading his feet into a better balanced stance. The stone arch, which apparently contained the vortex into a single space in the middle of the chamber, glowed a sickly yellow. A strange fog that reflected distorted images like a carnival fun house swirled around the Death Chamber. "Not good at all." He was definitely going to have to write to the Jarvin family about their loss of Maxwell. That is, if he didn't get sucked in too. His cloak flapped wildly in the supernatural wind. Slowly but surely Harry was being dragged across the room despite digging in his heels. That only wore grooves into the floor. "Aw shite!"

Philips and Harmony were just in time to witness Harry Potter get sucked into the Veil. The assistant screamed and fell into a dead faint. Philips could only watch from just beyond the doorway as the vortex collapsed into itself and the stone arch buckled, groaned, and then turned into rubble. The yellow glow disappeared. Bile rose up in the Department Head's throat.

"I am so screwed," Philips moaned.

000

PART TWO: _Worlds Away_

With a short scream, Harry Potter landed in the sand. He grunted on impact and rolled over onto his hands and knees. He retched and coughed. His brunch now decorated the gold grains beneath him. The wizard scrambled away in a crab-like scuttle and flung back his hood. He gulped in deep breaths. He then wiped his mouth with his cloth covered forearm. "Oh, nasty. Worse than Floo travel, that's for damn sure," he stated to the cactus next to him. Wait… sand and cactus? Oh no, he definitely wasn't anywhere near home. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto." At least he still had his wits and sarcasm.

Harry wobbled to his feet. He bent forward a little, bracing his hands on his bent knees. The brunet inhaled harshly and coughed again. Spitting out the phlegm and bile, he straightened up with a wince. His joints definitely were protesting the rough treatment. And then a shrill scream tore through the air. The wizard ignored his aching body and scurried over the dune. The urge to throw up again raced through him at the scene. Well, he had found Jarvin…

Maxwell Jarvin let out one last shriek of agony as strangely shaped wolves consumed him. The sand was stained red with his blood. Snapping and snarling filled the void left behind by the man's deathly silence. Intestines flew through the air in the midst of the feeding frenzy. The scent of blood called to the flying scavengers from above. The wolves were so noisy, eating their impromptu meal of human flesh. Harry stumbled back and pressed himself into a crevice in the stone cliffs that surrounded this patch of desert.

He could only watch as his former subordinate was eaten. Just like he could only watch when Hermione Granger had been raped and tortured. Just like when Ronald Weasley had been blown away by a Blasting Curse, only his head remaining. Just like when he lost his godson, Teddy Lupin, to the slow agony of a magically resistant brain tumor at the age of three. And so Harry scrunched himself further into that barely adequate sized crevice to wait out the pack of carnivores that were picking Jarvin's bones clean. The sounds of his death rung in Harry's ears well into nightfall.

Harry Potter fell into an uneasy and uncomfortable sleep.

000

The desert heat at high noon was pounding its way across his shoulders despite the light, airy fabric he was dressed in to combat the heat. Harry had changed his clothes just before dawn. He now wore a white linen shirt to reflect rather than absorb the sunlight along with a pair of khaki colored breeches that were tucked into his black boots. Blade and wands were in their places on his body. Thanks to his paranoia-survival trunk, Harry had sunblock lotion slathered on his exposed face, neck, and hands. He even spelled the stuff onto his scalp without greasing up his hair. A water bottle was clenched in his left hand, his main wand in his right. Senses that were still sharp despite the decade spent on paperwork and bureaucracy were on high alert.

Harry began his search for civilization.

Hours later, around six o'clock by Harry's reckoning from the sun's position, the wizard had found nothing. If anything, he seemed to be going even deeper into this parched land. Strange animals littered the area. Horses with armor growing out their bodies. Weird little tomato things walking about on two legs. More of those wolf-hyena mixes. And he couldn't forget the giant ass birds flying about. He was definitely nowhere near home. Hell, this wasn't even Europe. And you would think that he would have seen documentaries on Muggle television about these animals because they certainly weren't in any magical menagerie book that's he's ever read.

Just where the fuck was Harry anyway?

000

Whispers filled her ears. They spoke of a man, a hume, with great power beneath his skin. They spoke of war carved into his soul, the scars unfaded. Loss and sorrow marred his heart. They urged her, these whispers, to find him. And find him she would. The gods were tugging her along, guiding her toward him.

Fran, formerly of the Wood, continued her hurried trek across the sand.

000

The hiss of shifting sand reached Harry's ears. The feet disturbing the sand was different from the other fauna tramping about. He ducked behind a giant, bulbous grouping of cacti. And a being unlike anything he's ever seen, no longer surprising, walked into his view. It was female for obvious reasons. She had barely any clothes on; in fact it mostly looked like skimpy black armor and stilettos. Who wore stiletto heels while walking on sand? But her near nudity didn't really catch his attention. What Harry really focused on were her ears and silvery hair. The ears were elongated like a rabbit's, soft looking and elegant. Her long hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, a black headdress encircling the base of her ears and forehead, and cupping her temples. The headdress also partially encircled the outer rim of her upper face. Though the tall being's locks was such a fine silver-white that it simmered blindingly in the desert sun, her milk and cocoa colored skin contrasted beautifully with her hair. She was exotic; striking.

A crimson-eyed, statuesque rabbit woman, smack dab in the middle of a hostile desert.

The color of her irises made Harry a little nervous. The last time he had encountered someone with red eyes, he had almost died several times. Still, he had good instincts, damned good ones. His gut and mind agreed. This female whatever meant him no harm despite the fact that she wielded a wicked looking bow, a quiver of arrows slung across her slim back. Still, the wizard stayed behind his cover, caution making him wary of all-comers, instincts or no.

"I know that you are hiding here, traveler," she called out in an accented voice. If Harry could place it in comparison to his home, the accent was similar to Icelandic. "I mean no harm. The gods called you here as they called me. I know that you are not of Ivalice."

Gods? Ivalice? Hoo boy, it just kept getting better and better.

Harry sighed and threw his voice to the opposite direction of his hiding place. "Oh really? What proof do you have?" he demanded.

The being cocked her head to the side, her long ears swaying in the air. "Hear you not the whispers?" she responded. "Long has it been since I've heard the voice of the world. Odd that I can hear them again with your arrival." Invisible but unmistakable magic seemed to rise up from her skin, seeking him amongst the cacti and rocks. "The Mist called you here."

The wizard huffed and decided to reveal himself. "Are you talking of that weird fog that I saw before I ended up in this bloody hell-hole?" He stifled his amusement when the female whirled around, her eyes subtly widening in surprise. "Hi," he chirped.

She narrowed her gaze at him. "A dirty trick," she reprimanded. She pursed her lips at the shrug she received. "I am called Fran."

"I'm Hadrian," Harry said, using the name on his birth certificate. Just Harry, his arse. "How did you know about that fog?"

"The Mist," she said. "It is called Mist. It summoned you here. To Ivalice."

"Does that mean I'm not on Earth anymore?"

"But you are standing upon earth now." Her fine eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Ah, no. My home is called Earth. London, England to be exact."

"Ing-Land? Never have I heard of such a place. You are not of Ivalice, as I stated." She looked at him the same way one would look at an idiot.

"Bugger."

000

PART THREE: _A Pirate's Life For Me_

Five years passed by in a blur of culture shock and awe.

Ivalice was a place of empires and kingdoms. Archadia to the North was like a twisted reflection of the British Empire in its hey-day. Rozarria to the South was similar to the days of old school Asia Minor with harems and concubines and before the advent of Islam. Two opposites opposing one another in a cold war. Caught in the middle were the two smaller kingdoms of Dalmasca and Nabradia. The politics made Harry's head ache.

"Haddy! Haddy!" a little girl's voice called out from beneath the purpling sky of sunset outside.

Harry winced at the butchering of his Earth name. "Yes, Jaminé?" he answered. His employee's daughter popped her head over the glossair engine that he was working on.

"Haddy, I found you!" she crowed, her blonde curls bouncing. Her dark gray eyes glittered in glee. "Papa wants me to tell you that Miss Fran is back with that shipment of magicite that you ordered!" And then the small girl skipped away.

The wizard, now a mage of Magicks, stood up from his crouch. He groped for his cleaning rag, wiping away the grease on his fingers. Harry strolled out of the workshop with a smile for Fran. The Viera, because he had learned quickly what her species was called, looked at him with accessing crimson eyes. Their mutual employee nodded at Harry and went off to find his child before she mucked about in something she shouldn't. "Hello Fran. Wasn't too much trouble, I hope?"

"Nay. No trouble." Fran gestured at the insulated box at by her dramatically arched feet. "I trust that these are enough for your newest hover bike?" She resisted the urge to smirk when the hume stooped down onto one knee by her toes to open the box. The silver-haired female watched as Harry shifted through the jagged, glowing stones.

"They're perfect, Fran." Harry stood up and dusted off his pants. "Thank you."

"A reward then?" Those eyes became sultry as her eyelids fell down to half-mast.

Harry grinned. "I'm quite sure we can work something out," he replied.

_000/000_

A gasp escaped her lips as her partner gently tossed her onto the bed. The contrast of his pale gold body against her own light cocoa skin excited her. She wriggled as the wizard crouching over her removed her skimpy black armor and heels. She tugged her hair free of its tie, the long strands splayed out across the pillows. A moan sallied forth from her throat when his lips enclosed a dusky nipple. Calloused hands slowly parted slim thighs to settle his hips into the cradle created at the junction of her long legs. Her long fingers dug into the hard muscles of his broad, cloth covered back. She crossed her ankles right above the slope of his buttocks.

"Harry!" Fran gasped when he switched his attention to her other nipple. In response to her call, the brunet hume started rocking his hips against hers in an age-old rhythm.

"Ah, missed you, my lovely," Harry rasped. He reached down to undo his pants button and zipper. He knew that she enjoyed it when she was completely nude whilst he was still dressed during their couplings. He laughed at her gasp when he used the tip of his erection to circle her protruding clitoris. Her naturally occurring lubricant dripped out of her and soaked the sheets. "So wet and I've barely touched you down there," he teased.

"More," the Viera demanded. "In me, curse you!"

"Yes, yes," the wizard panted out. With a hard thrust, he entered her. He grinned at her long moan of satisfaction. "Been wanting it for awhile, Fran?"

"Shut up and claim me."

Without another word, Harry took what had been his for the past two years of the five since his arrival on Ivalice.

_000/000_

The sound of glossair engines woke Harry from his slumber. He sat up along with Fran. "What in the world?" he muttered. He turned back to the Viera. "Want to come with me to check it out?"

Fran rolled out of bed to pull on a silk dressing gown over her nude body. "Think that I would leave you to confront our rude guest alone?" she asked. She smiled at the frown thrown her way. "I am more covered in this than in my normal outer layer, my Harry." She slipped a pair of sleeping Viera balancers onto her arched feet.

"Still, I'm the only one allowed to see you so relaxed with your hair down like that," Harry muttered though he knew that she heard him well enough. He tugged on a pair of his denims and a long-sleeved shirt. "Alright, let's go." He stalked out of the bedroom with Fran at his heels. They exited their house by their workshop. He blinked in surprise at the sleek airship hovering over the yard. Its landing light provided illumination to the night alongside the full moon. "Nice." Harry rolled up his sleeves. "But I'm still going to beat this pilot's ass for waking us up at two in the morning. For fuck's sake, have these people no common decency?" He continued to complain, much to Fran's amusement, as the ship landed into the zone specifically marked for such things.

A hiss sounded as the ramp of the ship lowered down. A young man with dark blond hair sauntered down. "Greetings!" he called out jovially.

"Greetings, he says," Harry repeated in a snarky tone. "What do you want?"

"How rude."

"What's rude is the fact that it's not business hours, you twit!"

The man waved his hand as if the complaint had no merit. "Pish, everything is twenty-four hour for a sky-pirate." He grinned when Harry stiffened. He then clicked his heels and bowed to the two owners of the airship engine workshop. "I am Balthier, the leading man of this ship, and I seek a supporting cast. More specifically…" His pale eyes regarded them with aristocratic amusement. "I am in need of engineers and I've heard of you, Hadrian the Viridian, and of your lovely Viera, the Lady Fran, and the feats you've managed to accomplish with airship glossair rings and engines. The Strahl is a unique lady and needs the best. What say you? Will you join me and become a sky-pirate?"

Harry pretended to think about it. And then his face became blank. "No," he said succinctly. He spun on his heel and walked back into his house. Fran snorted in laughter at the gaping intruder and left him behind as well.

"Well then…" A calculating look cross the pirate's face.

000

"How about now?" Balthier once again was bothering Harry in his workshop. Apparently the blighter had decided to make a nuisance of himself in order to 'convince' Harry to join him.

"No."

A few moments passed. "Now?" the sky-pirate asked again.

"No."

000

Three weeks went on in the same manner.

"And now?" Balthier chirped.

"No!"

000

"Join me now?"

"No, you pain in my arse!"

000

"Please?"

"No! Now go away!"

000

"Hadrian, I brought you your favorite fruit from Rozarria," Balthier sang out as he literally waltzed into the workshop. Fran hurried out to laugh in private.

"Aw, that's so nice of you. Too bad you didn't just stay there. Also, the answer is still no." Harry turned his back to the pout gracing the pirate's face.

000

"Harry, a word?" Fran managed to pull Harry away before he buried his wrench up the pirate's nose. "He is irritating, I know."

"So let me kill him and I'll bury the body myself. Don't worry, love. You won't have to get your hands dirty."

"Hadrian…" The Viera stared at him.

Harry exhaled, his nostrils flaring. "Are you sure you want to leave our shop behind, Fran?" he asked.

She shrugged. "My wanderlust burns within me once more," Fran replied. "What better way to assuage it than to race across the clouds?" Well, when she put it that way... Harry did miss flying, even if it wasn't on a broom.

"Fine. When he asks tomorrow, I'll say yes for the both of us." Harry held up a finger before she could smile in satisfaction. "But you know, he's going to gloat."

"So hit him when it becomes too much."

"I have your permission?"

"Do not sound so gleeful at the fact, my Harry."

000

"You're saying yes?" Balthier stared in shock at the slightly taller man.

"Did I stutter?"

"Are you sure?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I can always retract-" He grunted when the sky-pirate leapt onto him.

"I knew you'd say yes!"

_CRACK_! Harry's fist made its acquaintance with Balthier's face.

"Argh! My nose!"

"No gloating, you wise-ass!"

000

**END**

**So, I think I just wrote the beginning to a new Final Fantasy one-shot series… Damn and blast. And I so totally fucked with Final Fantasy XII's canon partnership between Fran and Balthier. Was the smut too much? I tried not to make it too graphic. And yes, it's hetero. Even slashers like me read het...**

**Anyway, this was my first romp into the FFXII fandom. Hope you enjoyed it! *bows***


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